


The Kings and the Lady of Lorien

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [35]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Arguments, Drama, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance, unwanted sexual contact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:45:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So many people have lusted after our dwarven king that Thranduil begins to wonder if Thorin has been leading them on.  When Galadriel visits Erebor, she brings problems – most of them sexual - in her train and more chaos, fights and arguments for the two kings.</p>
<p>This is yet another of my many Thorinduil stories from the Two Kings series but can be read as a standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the Lady of Lorien

I’m back with another Thorinduil story after a bit of a break.  This one is slightly longer than usual because my readers have waited for some months and deserve a treat!  To all my followers with love!

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and the Lady of Lorien

 

Pt I

 

Surprise Visitors

 

_“Unforeseen surprises are the rule, not the exception. Remember: Stuff happens.”_  
  


Thorin kicked around his apartment sighing with boredom.  It was too early to go to bed; he had already had a bath; he didn’t feel like reading; nor was he in the mood to respond to some dry-as-dust official letters that Balin had handed over to him that evening.  He could go downstairs and have a drink in company, he supposed.  But the only company he wanted at this precise moment was that of Thranduil.  Unfortunately, the elven king was miles away in Mirkwood doing his stint in his own kingdom.  He would not be turning up in Erebor for at least a week.  And, with another sigh, Thorin picked up a quill pen and firmly scratched out yet another day on the calendar hanging above his desk.  Yes, he knew it was childish – Thranduil always laughed at him - but it helped the time to move more quickly – just a little bit.

 

Perhaps he should get undressed and lie on the bed and relax – then he might feel in the mood to do a bit of reading.  And he poured himself a glass of wine, placed it on his bedside table, then pulled off his boots and removed his jacket.  He had just started to unbutton his shirt when there was a knock at the door.  Tutting at being disturbed, Thorin marched to the door and flung it open grumpily – and there, leaning nonchalantly against the jamb with a sardonic grin on his face, lounged Thranduil.

 

Thorin stood there with his mouth open.  He had surprised the elf on a number of occasions by turning up before he was due, but his partner had hardly ever surprised him.  Now he looked at the dwarf from under golden lashes and said silkily:

 

“Hello, gorgeous.  Pleased to see me?”   And his elegant hand with its long fingers snaked out to feel between Thorin’s thighs.  “Ah, yes,” he murmured.  “I see you are.”

 

Thorin’s own hand grabbed the elven king around the neck and pulled him into a kiss as he dragged him into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.  Thranduil was laughing.  “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

 

“Is it important?” growled the dwarf impatiently, pushing his lover backwards into the bedroom.

 

“It can wait.”

 

“Good,” said Thorin, his voice husky with desire as he swiftly unbuttoned the elf’s surcoat and, sliding it from his shoulders, cast it upon the floor.  Then he nimbly unbuttoned his lover’s shirt and breeches before throwing him upon the bed.  There he yanked off his boots and disposed of both these and the breeches in an untidy pile in the corner.

                                                                                                                                                                  

Thranduil was still laughing when Thorin disappeared down between his spread thighs, but his amusement soon turned to pants and groans as the dwarven king sucked him right to the very brink of completion – but not quite.  It was a laughing Thorin this time who suddenly rose to his feet and dragged his partner on his back to the edge of the bed.

 

“You bastard!” gasped Thranduil.  But Thorin, standing before him, was unbuttoning his own breeches and pulling him into his groin where he hefted the smooth, alabaster thighs over his powerful hips and adjusted his own throbbing member before thrusting into him.  “Aah!” groaned the elf, his back arching in ecstasy.

 

“All better now?” grunted the dwarf.  But Thranduil was too lost in a haze of pleasure to answer.  Thorin gazed down and thought how wonderful he looked, his arms raised above his head and tangled in his flaxen hair, his shirt gaping open, his pliant body straining towards completion whilst his swollen member throbbed against his belly.

 

It was just too much.  “Coming, coming!” gasped the dwarven king in warning.  And the two kings came together in the best orgasm they had had in weeks.  Thorin flung off his clothes and climbed into bed next to his lover, tugging the sheets over their flushed bodies.  Within seconds, both were fast asleep.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin surfaced slowly the next morning to find himself in Thranduil’s tight embrace.  No, it hadn’t been a dream.  He was too comfortable to rouse himself and he burrowed more intimately into that smooth, beautiful chest.   Then he opened one eye.  Wasn’t there something that Thranduil had to tell him?  The reason for his presence?  And he woke his lover up with a series of kisses.

 

“Can I help you?” asked the elven king with a lazy smile.

 

“In a moment,” grinned Thorin.  “But, first you’d better tell me what you’re doing here.”

 

“Ah, yes,” said Thranduil, his tone becoming more serious.  “I don’t know if this is good news or bad news, but Galadriel is on her way to visit you.”

 

“What!” exclaimed Thorin, immediately wide awake and sitting up in bed.  “When?  Why?”

 

“She’s recently visited the Grey Havens,” explained the elf, “and came back along the road through Hobbiton and Rivendell and over the Misty Mountains, at which point she sent me a messenger with news of her eventual arrival in Mirkwood and her intentions of meeting with you in Erebor.  I sent a letter back with the messenger, saying that my son would greet her but that I would come here and prepare the way for her arrival.”

 

Thorin heaved a sigh of relief that he would not have to greet the Lady on his own and Thranduil grinned.  “Thought you might need some help,” he said.

 

The dwarf was completely torn as to whether he wanted this visit or not.  On the one hand, he was dying with curiosity to finally see this ‘Sorceress’ of Lothlorien; but, on the other, the thought of her filled him with apprehension and even fear.

 

And then another appalling thought occurred to him: “Will Haldir be travelling with her?” he snapped.

 

Haldir, the arrogant marchwarden; Haldir, the elf lord who hated dwarves and who had had trouble concealing this when he had been sent by Galadriel on a mission to Erebor not so long ago; and, worst of all, that same Haldir who had been in an abusive relationship with Thranduil for several years, humiliating him and treating him as a sexual slave.  Now that he knew all about this, Thorin wasn’t quite sure if he could ever meet him again without doing him some violence.

 

Thranduil looked up reluctantly at the dwarven king: “Yes, I think he might very well be in her entourage,” he muttered.  He wouldn’t exactly be pleased to see Haldir either.  “I’ll try to keep him out of your way.”

 

“Oh, no, you won’t,” hissed Thorin.  “I don’t trust him within a foot of you.”

 

“What you mean,” snarled Thranduil sulkily, “is that you don’t trust _me_.”

 

“And is there any reason why I shouldn’t trust you?” asked the dwarf, getting into one of his suspicious tempers.

 

Thranduil leaped out of bed angrily and strode across the room to pick up his discarded clothes.

 

“Of course there’s no reason,” he began to shout, “not since I warned him off when he came last!”

 

A sudden silence fell upon the room and Thranduil flushed and bit his lip.

 

Thorin rose slowly from the bed and confronted his lover.  “Perhaps you can explain,” he said, his voice quiet and threatening.

 

“Well,” he retorted, with a toss of his platinum hair, “it’s all your fault, if you really must know.”

 

“In what way – my fault?” asked Thorin in an ever softer voice.

 

Thranduil backed away from him.  “It was your fault because you would insist that I go riding with him while you answered those letters.”  And Thorin thought back to that day when he had, indeed sent them off riding together: the marchwarden, there on business from Galadriel, had been an uncomfortable guest because of his dislike of dwarves and Thorin had been glad to get him out of his hair for an afternoon.  But, that was before he had known that, once, the two had been lovers.

 

“So, what happened?” he asked with such a glint in his eye that Thranduil took another step backwards.

 

“Nothing!” snapped the elf.  “He wanted a fuck and I sent him packing back to Erebor.”

 

Thorin rubbed his knuckles: he felt like punching someone at this moment but he remembered Dwalin telling him how he had seen the pair ride off as he did duty on the ramparts that afternoon and that, after they reached the top of the escarpment, Haldir had suddenly turned and ridden back to Erebor, looking very annoyed about something.  However, his anger had been roused and he wasn’t in a very forgiving mood.

 

“Who knows how firm you will be with him this time?” he growled.

 

Thranduil began to yank on his breeches.  “I’ve had enough of this,” he said angrily and his hand reached up automatically to finger the very faintest of silvery scars that marked one cheek.  “At least your riding crop is down in the stable.”  The last time they had argued about Haldir, Thorin had struck his partner across the face with a whip.

 

The dwarf looked guiltily at the gesture.  “I’m sorry,” he said, full of remorse.  And he hung his head in shame at the memory.  Thranduil stepped forward and took him in his arms.

 

“It’s all right,” he said quietly.  “I understand.  But we must face Haldir together.  And the Lady would definitely back us if she knew what was going on……not that we should tell her, however.  It’s our private business and is for us to sort out.  But, when Haldir wants something, he is dogged in his pursuit and I need you to stand firmly by my side and protect me, if necessary.”  Thorin kissed the elven king but the thought of Haldir trying to seduce his partner once more filled him with anger.

 

.o00o.

 

Meanwhile, Haldir rode silently behind Galadriel in her entourage.  They were nearly at Thranduil’s stronghold in Mirkwood and, soon after, they would be in Erebor.  He would see Thorin once more – and Haldir wasn’t quite sure how long he could keep his disgusting and unnatural passion for the dwarven king a secret.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

Thorin and Galadriel

 

_“I would love to see a male-female relationship that had nothing to do with falling in love, I'd love to prove - even if it's not true! - that men and women can be friends without any kind of involvement.”_

 

Thorin had been anxious all day, going out onto the balcony innumerable times to see if the entourage had appeared over the horizon or not.  The previous day had been a busy one, filled with discussions with both the cooks and the stewards as to the menu plans and the allotting of rooms.  But, now that was all organised, there was nothing left to do – except worry.

 

“Come on,” said Thranduil, dragging him back into the room.  “She won’t come any faster for all your looking.  Neither will she bite.  She is a very gracious and beautiful woman.  You’ll like her – of that I am certain.”

 

“It’s not Galadriel I’m worried about,” muttered Thorin.  “I’m sure _she_ knows how to behave.”

 

“So, stop worrying about Haldir, then!  He might not even come.”  And the elf dragged his partner over to the bed for a bit of distraction.

 

Thorin allowed himself to be distracted for half an hour and was just building his way nicely towards a climax, his back arched and his mouth gaping open in a moan, when….a trumpet sounded.  Thorin nearly fell off the bed, then scrabbled into his clothes.  “It’s them!  It’s them!” he yelled.  And he was right.  They both heard the sound of many horses clattering over the bridge and into the yard and Thranduil determinedly ran a brush through Thorin’s wild mane before he would let his hysterical lover out of the door.

 

The dwarf ran frantically down the staircase with Thranduil galloping closely behind but, when he got to the great oaken doors, he stopped, took a deep breath, then gestured to the footmen to swing them open before appearing calmly and majestically at the top of the flight of stone steps just as Galadriel and her company were being helped to dismount.  “Perfect timing,” whispered Thranduil with a grin.  Thorin ignored him and bowed graciously to the gathered throng.

 

Then he raised his head and nearly took a startled step backwards because he was gazing into the calm grey eyes of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  Those eyes slid sideways to Thranduil who hastened down the steps to gracefully kiss the hand of his queen.  Thorin followed slowly in his wake.

 

“Ah, Thranduil,” she said, her lips curving in a beautiful smile, “it has been too long.”  Her voice was low and musical and Thorin was enchanted.

 

Shaking slightly, he fell to the ground before her and, taking her long, white fingers delicately in his large hand, he kissed their tips.  The elf lords murmured and there was a smattering of applause as the dwarf demonstrated a proper courtesy to their Lady.  Thranduil felt the electricity that crackled between them and cleared his throat: “May I present my partner,” he said stiffly.  “Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain.”

 

Thorin still knelt there as if afraid to lift his head.  But, Galadriel gave a tinkling laugh and raised him up.  He flushed and could not look at her.  Then she stretched out her hand and gently touched his cheek.  “I have known all the dwarven kings,” she said softly, “from far back into the mists of time.  Yet never have I seen one more beautiful than you, Thorin Oakenshield.”  She did not flatter but spoke these words seriously and with wonder but Thorin blushed a fiery red.  The Lady saw his discomfort and turned mischievously to Thranduil.

 

“You must look to your crown, Thranduil,” she laughed.  And when he raised a puzzled eyebrow, she added, “That crown you wear for being the epitome of male beauty, my lord.”

 

Thranduil smiled back, but he wasn’t feeling very amused.  And then she took Thorin’s arm in a friendly and familiar gesture and together they mounted the steps.  A sullen elven king was just about to follow when he felt a tap on his back.  “Hello, Thranduil, it’s me,” said a familiar but unwelcome voice.   He spun on his heel – and there was Bilbo.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked brusquely.

 

“I guessed you’d be mad,” replied the hobbit mildly, “but when Galadriel passed through Hobbiton, I thought she and her entourage would provide good company for a return to Erebor.  I just want to apologise, you know - and meet up with my old friends.”

 

The elf stood there glaring but Bilbo nodded up the steps to the disappearing backs of Galadriel and Thorin.  “You’d better catch up,” he grinned.  “She’s a dangerous woman to be left alone with….And she seems quite taken with Thorin, doesn’t she?”

 

Without another word, Thranduil scuttled off in pursuit.

 

But, when he reached the hallway, the two were nowhere to be seen.  A steward stepped forward and informed him that Thorin had escorted the Lady to her apartment and he was just wondering whether or not to follow when a voice murmured in his ear: “Looks like you can’t trust him, doesn’t it?  Mind you, she _is_ very lovely.”  Thranduil’s heart sank.  Their fears had been realised.  And he turned slowly to confront Haldir.

 

The elf lord gave him an unpleasant grin.  “So, he’s run off with the elven queen, has he?  Tell me, is he really the faithless kind?   I wonder what they’re doing together in her apartment?”

 

Thranduil’s tone was icy: “You insult both your host and your Lady.”  And he turned haughtily away from the elf lord to see to the other guests who were gazing around them in awe at the grandeur that was Erebor. 

 

But, Haldir knew he had struck a nerve and, as Thranduil swept off, he began to wonder just how loose Thorin’s morals actually were and if he stood a chance with him.  He just wanted an opportunity to fuck him, to get him out of his system.  Thorin had haunted his thoughts and his dreams ever since he had been sent on that mission to Erebor.  It disturbed him: it revolted him.  But the sexual pull was more powerful than anything he had ever known – even the attraction he had had for Thranduil.  He felt ashamed and feared that he would somehow reveal it to the world and then what would his standing be in the elven community of Lothlorien, most of  which had a similar distaste – even a hatred - for dwarves?

 

Meanwhile, Thranduil had detached himself politely from the elven entourage and had made his way to the Lady’s apartment.  He stood for some moments outside the door, biting his lip, and then he knocked quietly and immediately opened the door.  He wasn’t _really_ expecting to catch them in the middle of anything and so it came as a shock when his darting eyes found Thorin and Galadriel standing in a warm embrace in the middle of the room.

 

Rewind:

 

Thorin escorted Galadriel to her apartment and then poured them both a glass of wine.  Her beauty glittered like a cold diamond but he was discovering that her warm gentleness was all enveloping and he gradually felt at ease with her.  She admired the wonders of Erebor; she admired the rooms and then she admired his courage – and that of Thranduil – for being brave enough to acknowledge the strength of their love and marry each other.

 

“It must be very difficult for you both sometimes,” she said softly.

 

It was true, he admitted.  And his shoulders sagged as he thought about it. 

 

“A heavy burden,” she murmured.  “And sometimes the disapproval and even the hatred of both elves and dwarves must be almost too much to bear.”

 

He knew she understood.  It was as if she could look into his heart and read the thoughts and feelings there.  He grimaced.  “Nor do we make it easy for ourselves,” he said wryly.

 

“Two great kings with two powerful personalities,” she laughed gently.

 

“Too powerful perhaps,” he replied.  And the hand that held the glass that was raised to his lips trembled slightly and he had to put it down.  “I’m afraid I will lose him,” he continued, looking up from the glass as it sat on the table, and his voice broke.

 

Galadriel cupped his face tenderly in her hands: “Ah, Thorin, such a love that you two have for each other is the wonder of Middle-earth.  Be brave and it will prove a love for all time.”

 

Thorin was moved and lifted his face to her.  A tear trickled down his cheek as he thought of the power of his love for the elven king and she bent and gently kissed it away.  He lay his head upon her breast and, as he drew in her strength, he felt her lips upon his hair and was greatly comforted.

 

What Thranduil saw:

 

Galadriel was holding Thorin’s face between her hands.  Now she was kissing him!  And now Thorin had his face pressed between her breasts and had wrapped her in a tight embrace!  And now she was kissing his beautiful hair!  He turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.  The pair in the room broke apart, startled.

 

“See?” said Thorin with a resigned sigh.  “Here we go again.  More suspicions.  More arguments.  More explanations.  More snorts of disbelief.”

 

Galadriel threw back her head and laughed.  “It’s not funny,” grumbled Thorin but her laughter was infectious and he had to smile.

 

“You will sort it all out once more – and just think about the reconciliation,” she grinned.

 

“Well, yes,” said Thorin in amusement, “there is that.”

 

She kissed his forehead.  “Go after him, then.”

 

“Thank you for your kindness,” said the dwarven king.  And he kissed her hand warmly and made his exit from the room.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

Misunderstandings

 

_“We're all islands shouting lies to each other across seas of misunderstanding.”_

 

Thorin found Thranduil out on the balcony, drinking straight from a bottle.   He took it gently from his hand.

 

“She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?” the elf said, gazing blankly into the distance.

 

“Yes,” replied Thorin.  “The most beautiful creature I have ever seen.  She takes my breath away.”

 

“More beautiful than me?”

 

“Well,” said Thorin smiling and stroking Thranduil’s sleek hair, “she’s certainly more beautiful than me and, according to her, I am more beautiful than you.”

 

“Does she want you?” asked the elf.  “And….do you want her?”

 

Thorin sighed and kissed his lover on the lips.  “I’m a man’s man, Thranduil.  And I’m _your_ man.  You must know that.”

 

“But, I don’t know that – not after seeing you both together.”

 

Thorin gripped the elven king by the hair and pulled his forehead down until it touched his own.  “Listen,” he said.  “I was telling her how much I loved you and how scared I was of losing you.  Suddenly, it was all too much.  She understood and she was comforting me – kissing away the tears that I was shedding over you.  Don’t make me cry again.”

 

It was Thranduil who wept and Thorin who kissed away his tears.  They embraced passionately and were just starting to wonder if they should retire to the bed and indulge their passion before it was time to go down to dinner, when there was a knock at the door and Bilbo poked his nose into the room.

 

“Carry on,” he said with a gracious wave of his hand.  “Don’t mind me.  I’ve only popped in to say ‘hello’.”

 

“By Mahal!” exclaimed Thorin.  “What in Middle-earth are _you_ doing here?”

 

“Well, I must say,” grumbled the little hobbit, “it’s nice to feel welcome……Just like in the old days, when I first joined the Company.”

 

“You’ve become quite the stalker, Bilbo,” snapped Thranduil.  “You really must get over this stupid crush you have on Thorin.”  And his mouth turned down in distaste as he thought of the brothel in Bree where the two kings had been held prisoner and Bilbo had deliberately fucked the dwarf even when he had known it was him.

 

“I’ve apologised and apologised and grovelled on my knees,” said Bilbo indignantly.  “And what makes you think I’m here for Thorin?  I do have other friends, you know.”  And with his nose in the air, he sailed out of the room.

 

.o00o.

 

Dinner was difficult:  only the two kings and Dwalin knew about Haldir’s relationship with Thranduil and only those three knew about the incident in Bree.    Thorin and Thranduil sat either side of Galadriel and she gestured Haldir to sit next to the dwarven king – because she thought that this might improve their relationship – and Bilbo next to Thranduil – because he was a friend, wasn’t he?  Dwalin sat next to Bilbo and they were soon involved in a huddled conversation with each other which excluded Thranduil; and Haldir and Thorin just looked sullenly at each other – that’s if they looked at each other at all.

 

Galadriel gave an inward sigh.  Would Haldir never get over his hatred of dwarves?  And what _was_ the matter with Bilbo?

 

Haldir, meanwhile, was wishing he were elsewhere – like, down the far end of the table, as far away as possible from Thorin, or even in Mirkwood, rather than here: sitting as he was right next to him, where he could smell him and reach out and touch him and hear that deep, sensuous voice was almost more than he could cope with.  The dwarf was talking to Galadriel at the moment, and, as he watched that powerful muscular throat moving in a decidedly fascinating way, Haldir fantasised about throwing him upon the table, burying his face in his neck and sucking that smooth, tanned skin into his mouth.  His breeches were feeling uncomfortably tight.

 

Meanwhile, whilst Galadriel chatted with Thorin, Thranduil turned to Bilbo.  But the hobbit was head to head with Dwalin.  The elf watched them curiously for a few minutes.  And then he thought ‘no!’  The two weren’t so much talking as murmuring intimately – and Dwalin’s hand was resting on top of Bilbo’s.  Is this who Bilbo had come to see?  He grinned.  So, two rejected lovers had found each other instead.  Just wait until he told Thorin his suspicions!  The little squeeze that Dwalin gave the hobbit’s hand was further confirmation.  This was making Thranduil’s evening: the fewer people pursuing Thorin the better, as far as he was concerned.

 

Galadriel was showing appreciation of the banquet set before her.  “These vegetables, salads and fruits are so fresh and delicious,” she said.

 

Thorin blushed.  “I’m glad you like them,” he replied.  “I restored the walled garden we have here in Erebor – for Thranduil.  Most of it comes from there.  I hoped you would like it all.”

 

Galadriel was fascinated as well as pleased.  “He must show us this garden of his tomorrow, mustn’t he, Haldir?” she exclaimed, determined to be inclusive.  This should show the arrogant elf lord that he had more in common with the dwarf than he thought.

 

 _Well, why not_? thought Thorin.  At least this should keep Haldir away from Thranduil.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

The Walled Garden

 

_“I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.”_

 

“But this is absolutely beautiful!” exclaimed Galadriel, as Thorin unlocked the gate and led the way into the walled garden the next morning.  “Isn’t it Haldir?”  Well, she was trying.

 

Haldir had to admit that he was very impressed, surprisingly so.  The garden covered a very large area and it was stuffed full with fruit trees, soft fruit cages, flower beds and rank upon rank of vegetables and salad-y stuff like lettuces and tomatoes.  There was also an attractive lawn scattered with elegant stone urns and comfortable benches in shady spots and a pretty pond, full of decorative fish that glinted in the sun as they darted about.

 

“You did all this?” he asked the dwarf gruffly.

 

Thorin could hardly bring himself to exchange words with the elf, but with Galadriel looking on, he had to make the effort.  “I broke the back of it,” he muttered.  “It had fallen into decay whilst Smaug was here.  I did it for Thranduil,” he added, looking at Haldir rather defiantly, “but, although I come here most days, others are willing to help out.”

 

“The flowers are so lovely and the fruit looks so delicious,” said Galadriel sweetly.  “I wonder if you two boys would pick some for me and bring it all to my rooms?  I would be so grateful.”

 

They bowed graciously and went to pick up trugs and baskets that were stored in a corner.

 

“So kind,” murmured the Lady.  “And now I really must go and talk to Thranduil whilst you busy yourself with your task.”   And before they could say anything, she was gone.  _Now they’ll have to talk to each other,_ she thought, feeling quite pleased with her manipulations as she re-entered the stronghold.

 

Haldir’s heart leapt at the opportunity now presented to him, but Thorin’s sank.  Without Galadriel providing a buffer, this was going to prove very difficult and he wondered what he could do to encourage Haldir to follow his Lady. Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult since the elf could hardly stand him anyway.

 

“It’s a hot day, Haldir,” he said.  “Why don’t you leave me to it?  Go for a drink or something?”

 

“How kind,” was the silken response.  “But I must obey Galadriel’s wishes.”

 

Thorin was surprised.  In Haldir’s place, he would have jumped at the chance to make his escape.  But he shrugged and, handing a trug to the elf, he drew out a small knife.  “Hold this, then, whilst I cut some flowers.”

 

As he bent over the flower-bed, it amused him to think that he was showing the arrogant elf lord a dwarven backside _.  Let’s see how long he can stomach that,_ he thought. 

 

But, Haldir’s hands trembled as he held the trug and, as he stared at Thorin’s buttocks straining against his breeches, he wanted desperately to grab hold of them and thrust his swollen member between those muscular thighs.

 

When Thorin stood up to place some flowers in the basket, he almost laughed to see Haldir’s pale face and to hear his heavy breathing _.  Absolutely seething with indignation at the insult offered him,_ was the only thought that came into his mind.  _What with me being a dwarf as well as the marriage partner of someone he once had an affair with, I doubt that he’ll ever find it in himself to be civil, I’m glad to say._

He then spent much longer than was necessary cutting more flowers in the hope that his ‘insult’ would make Haldir find an excuse to leave and was surprised when the elf stuck it out.  “Right, then,” he finally said, “let’s pick some fruit.”  And he grumpily exchanged the full basket for an empty one.

 

Then Thorin had another try at repulsing the elf – he stripped off his shirt.  Sinuous tattoos wove their way across a heavily muscled body and a nipple ring dangled from his left breast.  Such adornment was anathema to elves who saw it as self-mutilation.  Thranduil saw it as sexually stimulating.  Thorin waited to see the look of revulsion in Haldir’s eyes – and certainly a strange look flashed into them and he turned momentarily away as if to collect himself.

 

 _Good_ , thought the king.  _He can’t even look at me at the moment_.  But that was definitely not what Haldir was thinking.  He was obliged to turn away before Thorin saw the lust in his eyes.

 

The dwarf went to pick plums from a nearby tree, stretching up so that his breeches slipped below his wide, deep navel.  Haldir drew in a quick breath.  Then the two moved on to an espalier, growing elegantly against a sunny wall where Thorin picked some pears.

 

“What about apples?” was Haldir’s suggestion.

 

Thorin led the way to a small group of apple trees.  Many apples had already been harvested whilst others lay rotten on the grass.  The largest tree had some ripe fruit dangling from its higher branches.   “Shall I climb up and get them?” asked Haldir, the marchwarden, who had spent his life leaping amongst the trees.

 

“No, I’ll do it,” replied Thorin.  “I’m very familiar with these trees and know which branches are rotten.”  And the elf stood back and watched curiously to see how a great hefty dwarf managed a bit of tree-climbing.  But, even under an elf’s critical gaze, Thorin climbed well enough and moved with surprising grace as he manoeuvred his way with an unexpected agility among the branches.  The muscles of his great shoulders and back bunched and rippled in a fascinating way and Haldir couldn’t tear his besotted eyes away.  But, as he reached for the highest apple, Thorin glanced down to see how the elf was reacting.  It was then that he saw the look of longing and desire in the marchwarden’s eyes.  Such was the shock that the dwarf lost his balance and went crashing to the ground.

 

Haldir leapt forward with a gasp of fear: suddenly, it seemed very important to him that Thorin wasn’t badly injured.  But the king lay face down, still and unmoving.  Haldir had years of experience with injuries caused by falls from trees and he carefully ran his hands down Thorin’s spine, legs and arms.  Dwarves were made from rock and stone and he did not expect to find anything too serious -  and he found none, except for a swollen ankle which appeared to be a sprain.  Thorin had knocked himself unconscious but his breathing was steady and so Haldir gently rolled him onto his back.  The feel of him under his hands, however, had been very arousing and now he was able to gaze his fill without any concern that he would be caught out in a disgusting show of lust for such a creature.

 

The nipple ring glinted in the sun and Haldir had to reach out and finger it.  Then he felt compelled to trace the line of Thorin’s tattoos across the wide, muscular chest.  The chest was lightly furred and he brushed his palm over the hair, shivering with pleasure at the sensation.   And then he followed the line of hair down to the navel where it thickened and disappeared below the level of the dwarf’s belt.  Haldir was in a daze of desire and couldn’t stop himself: his hand slipped down inside Thorin’s breeches and did what he had dreamed of doing in every fantasy that he had had since first seeing the dwarven king – he cupped and clutched his genitals and squeezed the dwarf’s cock.  Haldir choked on a sigh and then lowered his lips to Thorin’s own, grinding his mouth against that of the senseless dwarf and plunging his tongue deep inside the warm wetness.  It all felt better than any fantasy.

 

Meanwhile, Thorin was slowly surfacing.  His muddled thoughts rationalised the hand on his prick and the hot tongue searching his mouth: he was in bed with Thranduil and the elf was indulging in a passionate grope.   He returned the kiss and his cock hardened.  But, suddenly, a feeling of unease ran through him and he opened his eyes.

 

By Mahal!  It was Haldir!  And he suddenly remembered that unexpectedly lustful look that had made him fall from the tree.  With an exclamation of disgust, Thorin wrested himself from the marchwarden’s greedy hands and leaped to his feet – but the swollen ankle gave under him. 

 

He swayed on one foot and growled:  “Just come a few steps nearer so that I can throttle you!”

 

“Perhaps,” growled the elf in return, “I should throttle _you_ – and then I might find some release from this obscene passion I feel for you.”

 

They stood facing each other, both glaring, both taking up a fighter’s stance.  And that’s how Thranduil found them as he entered the garden.

 

His face first looked surprised and then angry.  He folded his arms and shouted:  “I told you, Thorin, not to get in a fight over me!  Now, both of you grow up!”

 

Haldir’s lip lifted in a sneer.  “Thus speaks Thranduil, the arrogant king of Mirkwood.  It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

 

Thranduil lowered his arms slowly to his side.  Finally, he said softly: “So, if it’s not about me, who is it about?”

 

Almost spitting the words out, the marchwarden snarled: “It’s about that filthy dwarf, your disgusting lover and partner, who, by some strange sorcery, has instilled an uncontrollable lust in me.  He has brought shame upon me and all the elven race.”

 

Thorin shouted angrily:  “I fell from the apple tree and when I regained consciousness, he had his tongue down my throat and his hand in my breeches!”

 

“And you hardened for me!” Haldir shouted in return.

 

It was Thranduil who now bunched his fists and was advancing upon Haldir with murder in his eyes……..

 

“I think that’s enough, don’t you?” said a quiet voice from the doorway.

 

The startled trio turned in horror.  The Lady Galadriel!  How long had she been standing there?

 

“It would appear, Haldir,” she continued, “that you are guilty of assaulting our host.  What have you to say?”

 

Haldir fell to one knee.  “I am under a spell, lady.  How else would I feel this attraction for a member of a race that I despise?”

 

“There is no magic involved,” growled Thorin, “just lust.”

 

“You are right, Thorin,” continued Galadriel.  “And I must apologise for not realising what was happening here and for throwing the two of you together.  And, now, Haldir,” she added, turning to the marchwarden, “what do you suggest we should do next?”

 

The elf rose to his feet.  “I shall, of course, leave Erebor immediately and return to the forests of Lothlorien.  There I shall live a solitary existence of quiet contemplation when I shall try to wipe these evil thoughts from my heart.  When I return to your court, I hope that I shall be Haldir once more.”

 

Galadriel raised her hand in a gesture of acceptance and he bowed and departed.

 

“I shall also leave with my entourage tomorrow,” she said sadly to the two kings.  “I had hoped that this would be a happy and fruitful meeting, Thorin, but all I have brought is grief in my wake.”

 

“Lady,” replied Thorin graciously and with feeling, “it has indeed been a happy meeting and one badly behaved elf lord cannot destroy the understanding that has passed between us.”

 

.o00o.

 

Pt V

 

What is Sexual Attraction?

 

_“He drew me like gravity.”_

 

It had been a difficult evening again, with dwarves and elves trying to be polite to each other.  He would be glad to wave goodbye to them all, Thorin had to admit, even though Galadriel had been entrancing.

 

He returned to his apartment with Thranduil and closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief.  Now he could take the elven king in his arms and they could forget all about Haldir.  They got undressed and Thorin lay on the bed whilst Thranduil tended to his ankle.  Galadriel had given them a pot of special salve to rub into the sprain.  Thorin grinned to himself: he was looking forward to this.  And he closed his eyes as Thranduil gently rubbed the cream all over his foot.  It felt very sensuous especially as the elf’s fingers caressed the sole and his toes.  He began to harden and was disappointed when his lover stopped.  But he opened one eye to find Thranduil rubbing the salve into his own erection with greasy palms and waited expectantly for the love-making to begin.

 

What he didn’t expect was for the elf to flip him over and to force his swollen member fiercely up his backside without saying a word.  The pounding continued for a few minutes and then the elven king came, violently and profusely.  After that, he rolled away from the dwarf and, turning his back on him, he pulled the coverlet up to his chin and prepared for sleep.

 

“So, what was that all about?” asked Thorin angrily, rubbing his sore behind.

 

When Thranduil didn’t answer but continued to lie there sullenly, the dwarf snarled: “It’s about Haldir, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, it’s about Haldir – and Galadriel and Bilbo and Dwalin and Maelon and Damaril and just about everyone whom you have somehow cast out lures to so that they have been unable to resist.  It’s even about me.”

 

“What!” exclaimed Thorin, seizing Thranduil roughly by the shoulder and yanking him around to face him.  “What?!”

 

“You know exactly what I mean,” said the elf coldly, getting up and pulling a robe around himself.

 

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean!” gasped the dwarf.  “And I would like to be enlightened.”

 

“So, listen,” was the angry reply, “because I shall only say it once.  You have had elves and dwarves and hobbits all queuing up to fuck you for years now and it suddenly struck me today,  as I saw you with your  shirt off and your breeches unbuttoned in front of Haldir - an elf who hates and despises dwarfs – that the only reason that so many unlikely people are after your arse is because you must offer it to them on a plate.”

 

Thorin gaped in disbelief and, climbing out of bed, girded himself with a towel.   But Thranduil ranted on.  “You deliberately seduce people, don’t you?  Just think of Maelon!”  Yes, Thorin was thinking of the corrupt elf lord with strong distaste.  “You went with him down to the hot springs and stripped off all your clothes – just so that he could see what he was missing.  And then you encouraged him to soap you: how surprising was it that those soapy fingers slipped into places that they shouldn’t have gone?!  And when poor Maelon becomes infatuated he gets the blame for everything.”

 

“Poor Maelon?!” the dwarf spluttered.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

“And then, within an hour of us having a row that time, you drag Dwalin into bed with you.  Poor chap!  You know how he feels about you and yet you used him because you couldn’t go even one night without a fuck.”

 

“It wasn’t like that,” protested the dwarven king but a little voice whispered in his ear that perhaps it was.

 

“And then there was poor Bilbo!  You really led him on, didn’t you, implying that you had something to give when you hugged him that time on the Carrock.  No wonder he’s been mooning after you ever since and fucked you in that brothel when he had a chance.  I don’t blame him,” said Thranduil with a righteous air.  “You really needed to see where your silly games were leading you.”

 

“But – but – but….,” stuttered Thorin.  He hadn’t appreciated that he had so many ‘poor’ people in his life.

 

“And what about Damaril?  Such a nice guy but you closeted yourself alone with him for two days whilst he taught you how to dance.  What happened during that time, I’d like to know?  What did you do to the poor creature that he shamed himself in front of the whole court for love of you?  I just hope he stays faithful to Dis and that you don’t have a broken marriage on your conscience.”

 

Thorin could hardly bear to hear any more and tried to stop the elven king in his tracks: “Now, just you listen to me, Thranduil….,” he said forcefully.

 

“No,” snapped Thranduil.  “I’ve done enough listening to you with all your excuses and your explanations – explanations that just don’t hold water – especially now that you’re going after Galadriel.  Unbelievable!  You’ve only known her for five minutes and I find you with your head between her tits.  You’d better move fast: you’ve only got one more night to get yourself into her bed.”

 

Thorin could only stand with his mouth open.  There seemed no way of stopping this stream of vitriol that poured from his lover’s lips.

 

“And, of course, then there was me!”  Thorin listened in fascinated horror to see what twists and turns Thranduil managed to apply to the complex affair that had developed between the two of them – an affair in which the elf had done all the running and Thorin had rejected him and tried to escape from his dungeon.

 

“Yes!” hissed the elven king for a second time.  “And then there was me!  You threw out so many seductive lures that night when I first saw you in Erebor.  I still remember the way you looked at me when you sang, that slithery silken robe that emphasised every part of your body.  Was it surprising that I came to your room?  It was an open invitation.  Do you know how seductive that look was over the top of your wine glass?  Or how I remembered that pressure of your knee against my thigh for years afterwards?  And, then, the cruelty of your rejection when I was finally tempted into making a play for you.  Are you surprised that my heart was broken and that I couldn’t forgive you for years?  That I sought comfort in the arms of Estril and then Haldir?”

 

Thorin stood lost for words.

 

“And then I suddenly found you in my power.  I had you in my dungeon and yet it was you who were in control.  Even in chains, you continued to seduce me, promising your body to me.  But, when I descended to the dungeon the following day to collect my prize, I found you had deceived me and that you and your Company had gone!”  Thranduil sniffed and wiped a tear from his eye at the memory.

 

“But I was caught then, wasn’t I?” he shouted.  “I followed you like a pathetic lap-dog to Erebor.  I risked my life in battle to save yours.  I nursed you for days afterwards and, when you recovered, all I wanted to do was to escape and return to Mirkwood so that you couldn’t hurt me any more.  And what did you do?  You invited me to your room and you seduced me, playing the innocent, offering me that body, taking me to your bed!  And I fell for it, didn’t I?  I actually _married_ you, by Eru!  And I’ve had cause to regret it endlessly ever since.”

 

Thorin felt like a delicate piece of glass on the verge of shattering any minute.   So that’s what the love of his life actually thought of him?  And he wondered if he would ever recover from such a blow.

 

“Goodness!  That was extraordinary,” said a fascinated voice from the shadows in a corner of the room.

 

“Bilbo!!” they both yelled as they turned on him.

 

“Well,” shrugged the little hobbit, “you were shouting so loudly that you didn’t hear me knock.”

 

“Get out!” they both yelled in unison.

 

Bilbo looked affronted.  “I thought you’d both like to hear my opinion….. you know, like from an observer…someone who has known you both for some time.”

 

They were just about to shout that _no, they didn’t_ , when they suddenly saw the merit in his offer.  “Go ahead,” sighed Thorin.  “There’s already been too much said so you might as well put in your two groats’ worth.”

 

Bilbo walked to a table, poured himself a glass of wine and sat down.  “Very nice,” he said.

 

“Get on with it,” snarled Thranduil.

 

“Well, it was all me, you know.  Thorin just wanted a friend.  He never tried to seduce me – it was me who tried to seduce him.  And he held me at arm’s length.  You see, not only is he very good-looking but he has this warmth – the magnetism of leadership, I suppose – and I found him irresistible.”  He crooked an eyebrow.  “But, I’m so glad to hear, Thranduil, that you approve of my attempt to fuck him when I had the chance.”

 

He had their attention now and he took another sip of wine.  “Dwalin, of course, has loved him for years and for similar reasons and Thorin has resisted him for two centuries.  But,” he added brightly, “you don’t have to worry about either of us any more because we’re rather enjoying fucking each other – our obsession with Thorin is over.”  Thorin gaped but Thranduil gave a twisted grin: he had been right. 

 

Bilbo was just getting into his stride: “I don’t know why you find it so difficult to understand that Thorin doesn’t have to do anything to attract attention.  All he has to do is stand there and people are bowled over by him.  Look at yourself, Thranduil!  The very first minute you saw him, from what I can make out, you were lost.  He was young and naïve and you tried to take advantage of him and then couldn’t forget him for 60 years.  I saw the way you treated him in your dungeons – I was wearing my magic ring.  It was disgusting really – you had him in your power and you weren’t going to release him until he let you fuck him.  Something about wanting to cover his body in gold and precious stones, wasn’t it?  That gave me a laugh, but Thorin didn’t find it funny.”  Thranduil blushed as he thought that someone had been watching him.

 

“You nursed him because you loved him and when he realised that it was love and not lust, then Thorin knew that he could love you too.  You’re turning something rather beautiful into something nasty, you know.” He drained his glass.

 

“Why are you so angry with him?  He’s done nothing.  Are you jealous?  Is it because you don’t understand why the queue to fuck you is shorter than the one to fuck Thorin?”  Thranduil clenched his fists angrily, but both kings were curious to hear Bilbo’s theory.  “It’s because,” continued Bilbo, his head perched on one side, “it’s because you are so very, very beautiful, Thranduil, but your beauty is cold and distant like the stars.  Thorin’s beauty is scruffier, more human, something we feel we can all reach out and touch – even you felt and wanted that.” He laughed.  “We all wanted to reach out and touch him – and not in a metaphorical way, either.  We all wanted to stick our hand down his breeches.”

 

The hobbit cleared his throat and got to his feet.  “Well, I’m off then.  Dwalin’s waiting for me and it’s his turn to be on top.  Something I’m really looking forward to.  And rather than arguing, you two should be thinking about how much you love each other and getting ready to fuck the night away, just like me and Dwalin are planning to do.”  And with a little wave, he left the room.

 

The two kings stood there for some time, thinking about what Bilbo had just said.  Then Thranduil threw back the coverlet.  “Fucking the night away with someone you love sounds like a good idea.”  Then he got into bed and held out his arms.

 

“And am I really someone you love?” asked Thorin, hesitating for a moment.

 

Thranduil reached out and whipped off Thorin’s towel.  “Ah, yes,” he said.  “You must be the one.  I definitely recognise that very stiff erection.”

 

“No fooling you, then,” grinned Thorin, climbing into bed with the elven king.  “But, I’m afraid I shall have my doubts if you fail to last the whole night.”

 

“Better get started then,” laughed Thranduil.  “What way do you want me?  Top or bottom?”  And with a contented grunt, Thorin swept his one true love beneath him.

 

.o00o.

 

“Come on,” whispered Dwalin.  “I’m just aching for a fuck.  If you don’t hurry up, I shall burst.”

 

“Just a minute,” said the little hobbit, his ear pressed to Thorin’s door.  “I need to check.”

 

“You’ll come in your breeches if you listen to them for much longer,” complained the big dwarf.

 

Bilbo drew back with a satisfied nod.  “They’re at it like rabbits,” he said.  “Thank goodness they believed me.”

 

“But, you only told them the truth, didn’t you?”  asked his lover in surprise.

 

But, by now, the hobbit was hurrying down the corridor.  “Didn’t you, Bilbo?” Dwalin called after him.  “It was the truth, wasn’t it?.....  Hey, come back when I’m talking to you…….”

 

.o00o.

 

**So, did Bilbo tell the whole truth about him and Thorin or is he concealing something?  Perhaps I’ll write a story about that another time, but, the most important thing at the moment is that Thorin and Thranduil are back together again and that Haldir is out of their lives at last: the marchwarden won’t be meeting up with another dwarf until Gimli tries to get safe passage through Lothlorien years later – and we all know how that turned out, don’t we?**

**I’ve enjoyed writing about these two again and I hope that you have got some pleasure out of this too and that another story comes to me again in the near future.**

.o00o.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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